


Off Season

by debwalsh



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fandom Trumps Hate, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Modern Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Shrunkyclunks, Steve Rogers has game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 12:37:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18180689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/pseuds/debwalsh
Summary: Sam, with the help of the Avengers, convinces Steve to take a vacation.  He agrees to stay in a small touristy seaport town in the off season.  There he finds the owner of the local restaurant and discovers that he definitely has a type - tall, dark-haired, and feisty. And in this century, the fact that the object of his desire is another man is really nobody’s business but his own.Written for haspel for Fandom Trumps Hate 2019, to benefit The Trevor Project.Thanks for your support of a great cause, and your wonderful prompt!





	Off Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haspel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haspel/gifts).



> The prompt was pretty simple: But what about Cap!Steve tries to romance one modern!Bucky this time With his spare knowledge about dating and getting together? Or would he be very confident? Up to you!!
> 
> The next thing I knew, my head had moved to New Jersey of all places (no hate, I’m from Pennsylvania by way of Massachusetts!), and a love story began to unfold. 
> 
> I loved working on this story, and I hope you enjoy your visit to this world of Steve and Bucky as much as I’ve enjoyed creating it.

“Why anyone would choose to vacation in Jersey is beyond me.”   
  
“When I was at Camp Lehigh, the guys would talk about getting furloughs so they could go to Port Garrett.  I dunno if any of them ever got there, but it sounded nice. So I wanna check it out. I looked it up on the Internet, and it’s still there, even if Camp Lehigh’s not any more.  It’s not all overbuilt like Atlantic City is now, and it’s not dry like Wildwood. It’s still just a little town on the shore, and rentals are relatively cheap this time of year.  I don’t wanna be overrun with tourists. I just wanna do what you said - chill. Maybe paint some. Run on the beach. Go to the local bar, have a coupla beers, and listen to music.  Just be a regular guy for a bit, you know?”   
  
“You sure you know how to do that?”   
  
“No.  But I think it’s time I learned, don’t you?  I don’t wanna go to some resort where people go to be seen.  I wanna go where people can see me, Steve. Just Steve.”   
  
“Okay.  I can see that.  And you won’t be far if the Avengers need you, will you?”   
  
“No, that’s a plus, I guess.”   
  
“If you say so.  I’d’a been happier if you were going further away than frigging Jersey.  It’s just across the harbor. Stark doesn’t even need to hop into his flaming jammies to come get you.”   
  
Steve snickered at the images of Tony in fiery pjs that flitted through his brain, but he shook his head.  “Don’t tell him where I am. Can’t come get me if he doesn’t know where I am.”   
  
“You really don’t know how modern technology works, do you?”   
  
“Oh, I know.  I also know if I ask JARVIS to respect my privacy except in the case of a true emergency - say, one that you verify meets the criteria - JARVIS will ensure that Tony doesn’t know.  Tony had the good sense - or maybe it was Pepper who insisted - to build in that safeguard. And I believe Tony will honor that. He might chafe, but he’ll respect it.”   
  
“You’re serious? You’d actually set that requirement?”   
  
“I’m tired, Sam.  Everybody thinks 70 years on ice is restful. It’s not.  Not when I no sooner come to but I’m staring down the gullet of an alien space whale.  And super villains. And Hydra risen from the grave. And Tony making a super villain robot. And shit I never imagined in my worst fever dreams.  I’m ... I know this is therapist’s orders. Your orders. But I know I need it, too. My body is enhanced, but it’s not a perpetual motion machine.  It needs rest, too. I got nothin’ left in the tank, pal. It’s not permanent. I’ll be back. But I’m no good to anyone if I run myself down so far I can’t get back up again.”   
  
“Well, look who’s all enlightened and shit.  Proud of you, man. Just make sure you always keep my brand on ice, and be prepared for a guest to stay over now and again.”   
  
“Just you?”   
  
Sam shrugged.  “Got my eye on someone.  Not sure how therapeutic for you it would be if I showed up with her.  Nah, I think just you’n’me will do just fine by our lonesomes. You got a place in mind?”   
  
“I was checking some rentals.  There’s a place right off the beach that looks good.  It’s available now until the middle of May at a reduced rate, doubles come Memorial Day.  Might book it through mid-June.”   
  
“Reason being?”   
  
“End the off season with a whatchacallit, barbecue.  Isn’t that traditional?”   
  
“More like kick off the summer with a ‘que, but works just the same.  Okay. You plan on that, and I’ll work on my Mama to get her world famous rub recipe.”   
  
“Deal.”   
  
&&&   
  
Port Garrett might be on the other end of the Lincoln Tunnel, but it might as well be on the other side of the world from New York City.  Where New York was tall and sprawling, Port Garrett was down to earth and compact. A little boardwalk ran along the stretch of public beach that made its home in Port Garrett, edged by a white lattice-work half wall, and on the street across from the boardwalk was a series of bungalows dating back to before Steve’s time, each with a neat little yard contained within a fence of some kind - chain link, white picket, or hedge, a broad front porch, dormer windows, a short driveway, a decent-sized backyard, and a freestanding garage in the back.  A couple of small businesses interrupted the flow of homes - a little burger shack that served homemade fast food with frozen custard year round, a rental office for some of the rental properties in town (including his), a couple of small shops that traded out merchandise depending on the season, a restaurant/bar that offered a beachfront view, steak and seafood, and a shuttle service so no one would drive home drunk. Old-fashioned street lights punctuated the lane, lending the whole neighborhood the feel of a bygone era. An era closer to Steve’s heart.   
  
Steve found himself oddly charmed by the eclectic assortment of buildings.  Further from shore, the town hall stood dead center of the town, across from a municipal park that boasted a massive tree that had survived historic storms up to and including Hurricane Sandy.  People went about their lives, bundled up against the chill, their faces lifted to the sky to take in the late winter sunshine. Somehow it felt more real than anything he’d seen in a long time.   
  
Steve sat in his car, parked in front of the town hall, and watched for a few minutes.  The unfeigned normality of it all resonated in his chest, loosening a tightness he’d become so used to, he’d forgotten it was foreign to him.  Not the tightness of compromised lungs, or the stutter of a damaged heart, but the coiling bands of tension too long held. He drew in a shuddering breath and felt his chest expand freely for the first time this century.  He smiled to himself, turned the ignition, and headed for his new home, filled with a sense of anticipation.   
  
As he pulled the car back into the trickling flow of traffic, Steve wondered if this is what it felt to be normal, to look forward to returning to one’s home, to feel such ... joy ... at the prospect of coming to rest.   
  
He pulled into his driveway and thumbed the garage door opener the real estate agent had provided.  When he was a kid, having a home like this would have been beyond his wildest dreams - a single family dwelling with grass and a garage, and neighbors who didn’t share a hallway or a bathroom.  But in this modern age, this was the definition of the American dream for many, even as it proved out of reach for a lot of folks.   
  
Of course, he didn’t own this place.  Might never own a place of his own. But if he wanted it, he could, amazingly, afford it. And as he felt the chilly salt breeze caress his exposed skin as he unloaded his car, he thought maybe that was something in his future.  A home of his own.   
  
For now, this would be enough.  A beginning. A taste of what could be.  If he wanted it.   
  
&&&   
  
It didn’t take long to settle in.  He only brought one large duffle, enough clothes to last a few weeks with a weekly laundry run. And the shield in a round backpack Tony’d made for it. The place came fully furnished, with a full set of appliances and all the necessities in place.  Two bedrooms, each made up with freshly laundered sheets that smelt of lavender, just like Ma used to press into the sheets when she ironed them. Even the basic dry staples were stocked in the pantry. He only had to add perishables and anything else that he wanted, if he wanted to eat at home at all.   
  
For this afternoon, he was drawn to the warm lights and fragrant smells wafting down the boardwalk from the bar at the end of the walkway.  The idea of a good steak and a pitcher of cold beer sounded just about perfect right now.   
  
Steve ambled down the boardwalk clad in his favorite khakis (“they’re comfortable, Tony, shut up”), a well-worn brown plaid shirt (“it reminds me of home, Tony, shut up again”), and his favorite leather jacket (“yes, it’s vintage; yes it was mine originally, Tony, shut up for real this time”).  It was late afternoon, the sun was still fairly high in the sky, and the air was brisk as he walked along the boardwalk, hands in his pockets and a spring in his step.   
  
The interior of the restaurant, Howlies by name, was comfortable and warm, with clusters of tables and chairs, and booths down one side, and a dark paneled bar down the other.  A couple of tables stood by the big picture window, overlooking the boardwalk, the beach, and the sea beyond. Just looking out it made Steve’s fingers twitch for a paint brush. At the back of the space, a little stage and a dance floor separated the restaurant from the kitchen.   
  
The lighting was soft, flames flickering in little colored jars on the tables, warm light cascading from pendant lamps with stained glass shades.  The effect was homey, nostalgic. Steve already loved it and that didn’t count the delectable smells that filled the space.   
  
“Just you, sir?” a deep voice asked, and Steve felt it shiver down his spine.  He turned and saw a beautiful young man with blue-gray eyes, long dark hair drawn back in a bun, a sexy scruff, and a smile that made Steve’s insides go all gooey.   
  
“Um, yeah.  Dinner?”   
  
“That an invitation or a request?”   
  
“Uh -“   
  
“Kidding.  Got a preference for seating?  You beat the evening crowd so you can sit anywhere you like.  Want something to drink?”   
  
“Whaddya got on tap?”   
  
“You like craft or you prefer commercial?”   
  
“Craft.  Your choice.”   
  
“Good man.  Here, have a menu.  My sister’s the cook and she makes a mean steak.”   
  
Steve accepted the menu, glanced at it briefly, then put it down.  “Steve,” he introduced, putting his hand out to shake the bartender’s.   
  
“Bucky.  Well, James, but my nickname’s Bucky and I answer to that more than James.  You traveling through?”   
  
“Just moved into the neighborhood.  Rental for the next coupla months.”   
  
“Oh, well, then.  Welcome neighbor.”   
  
“Thanks.  So, steak rare sounds good.  What else do you recommend?”   
  
Bucky hesitated for a moment, with a smirk Steve could only call sinful before he wiped it away and regained his professional veneer.  “Hey, since you’re new to the neighborhood, how ‘bout I pick? See if I can guess your tastes. Whaddya say?”   
  
“I say I’m game.  Let’s see whatcha got.”   
  
“You’re on. Lemme get your beer, and then I’ll put in your food order.  Okay?”   
  
“Yeah, sounds good.”   
  
Steve settled into his booth, enjoying the view of Bucky going back to the bar almost as much as he’d enjoyed the view of him standing over him taking his order.  When Bucky got to the bar, he looked up and smiled at Steve, and Steve felt a little zing of electricity spark through him.   
  
It’d been a long time since Steve had felt that kind of instant visceral attraction.  Not in this century, certainly. Back before the serum, he’d been interested in both women and men, but most men who might have been interested would’ve expected Steve to be the lesser in a relationship.  And most women wouldn’t even give him the time of day. After the serum, he had both sexes practically throw themselves at him, and after a couple of soulless encounters, he’d decided celibacy was better than feeling empty.  Besides, his right hand was no stranger. There’d been the possibility of something with Peggy, but the war and then the ice had put that on hold so long it had expired. So, while he could objectively know that someone was attractive, he tended to keep any impulses in check.   
  
But in this incredible new century, a lot of the attitudes that had held him back had changed.  Advances in medicine, in social justice, in simple information and knowledge had changed the world.  There were still pockets of ignorance, of malice. But a kid with asthma wasn’t treated like he was sick in the head anymore.  And a man could look at another man and not face jail time or a blue ticket. A man could even ask another man out on a date, and it was legal in all 50 states now.  Imagine that.   
  
And watching Bucky smile as he pulled the tap to fill Steve’s mug, Steve was imagining a lot.   
  
“Local brew, winner at a couple of the local beer fests.  Lemme know what you think, okay?”   
  
Steve lifted the mug and smiled over it at Bucky.  Was it his imagination, or was Bucky blushing a little? Could be a trick of the light, but Steve chose to believe he put that blush there.  Then he took a sip of his beer, and couldn’t hold back the moan of pleasure. Bright citrus notes danced along his taste buds, a clean, crisp flavor that rolled right to the back of his tongue. He glanced up at Bucky then, feeling a little extra spike of energy at the darkening in Bucky’s eyes, his pupils expanding to eclipse the blue.   
  
“Wow, that’s good.”   
  
“You like that? You feeling adventurous?  I could pull together a flight for you to try.”   
  
“That sounds great, but I don’t want to keep you from your work -“   
  
“Our rush hour is still an hour away. You hit the sweet spot between the lunch crowd and the early dinner crowd.  You’re new to the area - lemme spoil you a little, okay?”   
  
“Okay.”   
  
&&&   
  
As the afternoon progressed into evening, the place started to fill up, and Bucky became busier.  Additional staff arrived to help seat patrons and take orders. An acoustic duo took up residence in the stage area and played a soothing set.  But Bucky still found time to replenish Steve’s beer personally, make suggestions from the menu, and stay in touch. When Steve noticed there were people waiting for seats, he felt guilty he’d been occupying a table for so long, and said as much to Bucky.     
  
“Well, there’s room at the bar if you wanna keep me company?” Bucky answered hopefully.   
  
“I won’t be overstaying my welcome?”   
  
“I don’t think that’s possible, to be honest.”   
  
“Yeah. Okay,” Steve replied with a funny sense of fluttering in his stomach - a stomach that for a normal human being would be distended and sore considering all the excellent food he’d packed away.  Bucky smiled at him then, a smile that lit up his whole face, crinkling the soft skin around his eyes and scrunching up his nose.    
  
“Yeah, okay,” Bucky said softly, and nodded toward the bar.  He walked back to it, Steve following like he was joined by a tether.  Bucky gestured toward a seat at the end of the bar, right in front of the sink.  “So what else do you wanna try?”   
  
Steve had memorized the beer list with one glance, but he still asked to see the list just so he could brush his fingertips against Bucky’s.  As he expected, he felt an electric prickle run up his hand, into his arm, and spread across his chest. He wondered if Bucky felt it too, since his eyes widened fractionally, and his smile seemed to grow wider.  Steve dropped his eyes to the list and pointed at random.   
  
“Sure about that?”   
  
Steve nodded.     
  
“Okay.  Not one of my favorites, but I love the brewery,” he said as he picked up a pint glass, his eyebrow arched in question.  Steve shook his head and held up his hand, spreading his thumb and forefinger just a couple of inches apart. “Good man. You wanna start another flight?”   
  
“Yeah, sure.”   
  
“You don’t look like you’re affected - you’re not driving, right?”   
  
“Walking.”   
  
“Okay, then.  Some other night you’ll have to try a whiskey flight.  I have some really nice options there,” Bucky said as he busied himself pulling five small glasses, then filling each one almost to the brim from five different bottles.  He set the glasses into a wooden tray with a slot for each, scribbled the names of each beer on a slip of paper, and slid the flight over to Steve. “Lemme know what you think.  Oh, hey, I’ll be back.”   
  
And then Bucky stepped away to take orders from his other patrons.   
  
“Well now I know where you pack it away.  God-damn!” a feminine voice said from behind his shoulder.  Steve swiveled in his seat to smile at a feminine version of Bucky, a few inches shorter, maybe a few years younger, but just as feisty as she stood there in her chef whites, hands fisted on her hips.  “Up for being a taste tester?”   
  
“Whatcha got?”   
  
“Oh, it’s on.  I’m Becca, by the way.  It’s always nice to see the food I make get its proper due.  Buck said you’re in one of the rentals down the boardwalk?”   
  
“Yep.  Just got here today.”   
  
“Well, don’t be a stranger.  And don’t be a douche. Not everybody gets invited to sit there, you know.”   
  
“No?”   
  
“No.  Okay, I’m gonna test those buds of yours, bud.  Gird your loins.”   
  
“Bring it on.”   
  
&&&   
  
Becca proceeded to ply Steve with small dish after small dish, interrogating him mercilessly for his opinions on each while Bucky manned the bar and looked over at the pair of them fondly as the evening grew busier.   
  
Finally, the rush seemed to die down, the musicians packed up their gear and thanked the patrons for listening, and people started to leave.  Bucky came back to the sink station and started washing up.   
  
“Oh, I guess I’d better go -“   
  
“Nah, you can stick around a while longer.  If you want, I mean. This is the boring part of the night.  Company would be welcome.”   
  
“Okay.  So, Howlies.  It’s an odd name.  Where’d it come from?”   
  
“Well, my grandad’s partner was one of Captain America’s Howling Commandos.  Dum Dum Dugan,” Bucky answered, and waited, eyebrows raised expectantly.   
  
Steve huffed a laugh.  What were the odds? He leaned forward on his forearms, straining to hear more - he was both enthralled with Bucky, and eager to hear of his old friend.  “Really? Wow, that’s amazing. How’d they meet?”   
  
Bucky pulled something out of his shirt, something suspended on a chain, and fingered it thoughtfully.  “Grandad Barnes was a prisoner of war. The Howlies liberated the camp. He and Gr-, er Dum Dum became friends.  Then when the war was over, they settled back here.”   
  
“Wow.  So, what, they went into business with this place?”   
  
“Yeah, in a manner of speaking.”  Bucky paused, his hand closing over whatever hung from his chain, and looked at Steve appraisingly.  “Look, I watch the news. I have a good idea of who you are.”   
  
“Busted, huh?”   
  
“There a reason you’re going incognito?”   
  
“I really am here on a vacation.”  Steve looked at Bucky with his own appraisal.  “Doctor’s orders. Relax now or pay the price later.”   
  
“Ah.  Well. Thank you.  For trusting me.” He paused, frowning, before he appeared to come to a decision.  “Thing is, Dum Dum - Grandpa Tim - wasn’t just my grandfather’s business partner. They were partners in every way.”  He fished out the object in his hand and held it up for Steve to see. “They each had a dog tag made into a wedding band for the other.  No government on the planet woulda recognized them, but they did. The family did, too, in its own way. Grandma Ruth was just as happy to raise kids and grandkids, and let them get on with whatever they wanted.  They all seemed pretty happy together, honestly, so whatever they all were together, it seemed to work. When Grandpa Tim passed, Grandpa Barnes put both their bands on this chain. And he gave it to me before he passed, told me to hang onto it for the right partner.”   
  
“And you haven’t found her?”   
  
“Him.  And not yet.  Maybe. Did you know?”   
  
“That Dum Dum liked fellas?  No. He always came off as a womanizer, but no woman ever complained, and he always left them laughing.  Maybe he was just good company. I’m glad he found happiness. He was a good guy, a good friend.”   
  
“And you?”   
  
“Me, what?”   
  
“Have you found happiness?”   
  
Steve looked at Bucky, took in the hopeful arch of his eyebrow, the pensive way he held himself, bracing for an answer.  Then he smiled. “Hanging on for the right partner.”   
  
“And have you found her?”   
  
“Him.  And ... maybe.  What’re you doing after you close?”   
  
“I think I might be walkin’ you home.”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“Yeah.  Unless I’m reading this wrong?”   
  
“No, I think you’re definitely reading this right.  I’d like that. For you to walk me home. I, uh, I’d like to get to know you better.  I wanna get to know you.”   
  
“Well.  When a handsome fella like you says such pretty words, it’s enough to turn my head.”   
  
“Now you’re making fun of me, just ‘cos I’m old-fashioned.”   
  
“I like old-fashioned.  And I’d rather think of you as ‘vintage’.  Like a fine wine.”   
  
“Or an aged whiskey?”   
  
“Tomorrow night.  I’m curating a coupla flights of whiskey for you.  That okay?”   
  
“Yeah.  I went from watered down swill to Army rationed ersatz swill to Tony Stark’s idea of top shelf.  I have no context for what’s good, just expensive.”   
  
“We’ll fix that.  How long do I have?”   
  
“Hmmm?”   
  
“Til Stark and the others reclaim you?  How long do I have you to myself?”   
  
“I have the house until the end of July.  I was gonna take it through mid-June and then I realized -“   
  
“You have a birthday coming up.  We cater you know. And play your cards right, you might just qualify for the friends and family discount.”   
  
“Yeah?  And what do I have to do to qualify?”   
  
“First, I think you’d better let me hold your hand while I walk you home.  We’ll go from there.”   
  
&&&   
  
Bucky grabbed his jacket, scarf, and newsboy cap, and grinned brightly at Steve as he put out his hand to him.  “Shall we?”   
  
“We shall,” Steve replied, smiling fondly, and accepted the outstretched hand.  Bucky held the door open for Steve, then took him by the hand and led him out into the chilly night.   
  
They hadn’t gone far when Bucky tugged on Steve’s hand and asked, “Hey, I forgot to ask - do you get cold?  I mean, super soldier serum and all -“   
  
“I do.  Everyone assumes I don’t feel anything, that the serum eliminates pain and such.  But the fact is I feel everything. And cold? I hate the cold. 70 years under ice has a way of getting under a fella’s skin, you know?”   
  
Bucky stopped then and dropped Steve’s hand.  Then he stepped in front of Steve, unwound his scarf, and draped it around Steve’s neck, tying it with a flourish.  “Well, then. We need to do what we can to keep you warm.”   
  
“Thanks,” Steve whispered, a ridiculous smile lighting his blue eyes so they appeared to glow in the night.   
  
Bucky stood right in front of Steve, his hands resting lightly on Steve’s shoulder.  “So tell me. The history books don’t talk about Captain American being queer.”   
  
“No.  That wouldn’t have served the propaganda’s needs.”   
  
“So, is this just gay for the stay?  Or are you out?”   
  
“Oh. Oh, I’m not playing at it, if that’s what you mean.  But no, I haven’t come out. Not formally.”   
  
“Does anyone know?”   
  
“That I’m bi? I don’t know that anybody really cares, to be honest.”   
  
“You don’t think that anyone would care that Captain America is bi?  D’you have any idea what that kind of representation would mean to queer kids?”   
  
“First of all, Captain America is, I dunno.  Sexless. He’s a symbol, a fabrication. Steve Rogers, on the other hand, he’s bi.  And he’s freezing his ass off standing here. How about we take this to my place, you can come in and, um, have a night cap?”   
  
“Mmmm, as good as that sounds, I think maybe this is the night I kiss you at your door and wish you a good night.”   
  
Steve couldn’t keep the whine out of his voice.  “Why?”   
  
Bucky smiled and took Steve’s hand again to tug him along.  “Because if you’re not comfortable being out, I’m not comfortable being somebody’s secret.  So I think we take it slow -“   
  
“It’s not that I’m not comfortable being out.  If I come out now, though, the press won’t leave me alone.  And I told you - I’m on leave under doctors’ orders.”   
  
Bucky took that and mulled it over in silence, but his hand remained clasped with Steve’s.  “PTSD?” Bucky finally asked.   
  
“That’s what they call it.  Mostly, though ... I just need a break.  I need to not be him for a while. I need to just be Steve Rogers for a while, y’know?  Figure out who he is.”   
  
They’d reached the sidewalk in front of Steve’s rental, and he stopped, squeezed Bucky’s hand and pulled him closer.  “I believe I was promised a kiss.”   
  
“At your door, so let’s, um, yeah, let’s go there.”   
  
Steve smiled and led Bucky up onto the porch and to the front door.  “Well, here we are,” he announced with a hopeful grin.   
  
“Yep,” Bucky agreed, drawing out the P.  “Here is where we are.”   
  
Steve suddenly deflated, drawing inward as he half turned away.  “We don’t have to if you don’t want to -“   
  
“No!  No, I want to.  I just don’t know if I can be satisfied with just one kiss.”   
  
“Well, I’d be happy to offer you a two for one deal,” Steve replied, his expression morphing to impish as he reached out and caught Bucky’s other hand in his.   
  
“Didn’t know marketing was part of Captain America’s job.”   
  
“Well, there was a twenty percent bump in bond sales whenever I performed in a town.  Captain America was actually a marketing construct, created just to sell bonds. All flash, no substance.”   
  
“Really, now,” Bucky said, allowing himself to be pulled into the shadows of the porch.   
  
“And Steve Rogers, well.  He made his living doing art and layouts for advertising.  He also did Tijuana Bibles on the side - much more lucrative.”   
  
“Tijuana Bibles?”   
  
“Dirty comics.  I drew porn.”   
  
Bucky barked out a laugh and nearly doubled over.  “Oh my God, that is my new favorite thing. Straight or queer?”   
  
“Straight for money.  But yeah, I did some queer art for friends in the community.”   
  
“Then yes.  I must support your art. I accept your offer.  Two for one. Starting now.” And Bucky dropped Steve’s hand to cradle his cheek as he held Steve’s face in just the right position to lean in and press his lips against Steve’s.   
  
“That’s one,” Steve breathed.   
  
“Then I get two more, right?”   
  
Steve nodded, smiling in wonder now.   
  
“Then I’d better make them count, huh?”   
  
“Guess so.”   
  
So he did.   
  
&&&   
  
Steve Rogers quickly became a fixture at Howlies, dropping in for lunch and staying to walk home with Bucky after closing.  With Bucky and Becca’s permission he brought over his art supplies, and set up at the big picture window overlooking the beach and the ocean, and spent the days painting.  That of course attracted the attention of onlookers, and fascinated children. Before long, he was doing painting sessions with the kids, and Howlies became the go to spot to drop off your kids while you took an adulting break.  That sweet spot between lunch and dinner became filled with parents getting some much needed downtime over cocktails and appetizers while Steve entertained their kids with creativity and laughter.   
  
Having Steve Rogers as a neighbor proved to be very good for business, and no one asked for Captain America’s autograph even once.   
  
Oddly enough, no one had connected artist Steve Rogers with the Captain America hero who was missing from screens all over the world.  Tony Stark had answered the tumult of press questions with a simple, “Cap needs a break from saving the world.”    
  
Pepper Potts followed up with a more polished, “We are grateful for all that Captain America has sacrificed for our combined safety and well-being.  He’s taking some time off now to focus on his own well-being and health. He’s doing fine, and he and we appreciate you all respecting his privacy during this time.”   
  
Any further requests for interviews, updates, or exclusives were met with a stalwart, “No comment at this time.”   
  
So, for the first time since 1943, Steve Rogers got to have a life.  And really for the first time in his life, he got to have a life he chose, on his terms.  And it was fast becoming a life he cherished and was loathe to give up.   
  
Could Steve even consider giving up the shield?   
  
He’d pause in his painting and look over to where Bucky stood at the bar, his forearms crossed on the gleaming countertop as he smiled at him.  Steve had lost count of all the smiles Bucky gave him, each unique and wonderful it is own right. But the smile he gave him right then, the one full of something wonderful, something proud, and something uniquely precious?  That one was his favorite.   
  
For that smile, Steve Rogers would do anything.   
  
&&&   
  
“You sure about this?”   
  
“What?”   
  
“I mean, they’re all famous people.  They’re the Avengers, for chrissake.”   
  
“And you’re Bucky Barnes.  You’re every bit as important as they are.”   
  
“No I’m not.”   
  
“You are to me.  You are. I don’t understand how I lived my life without you in it.”  Steve sat at the edge of the barstool and slid his finger into Bucky’s belt loops, drawing him closer into the V of his legs.  “These past couple of months with you ... they’ve been the best time of my life.”   
  
Bucky placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders, and massaged them gently.  “Is this where you tell me it’s been great but it’s over?” he asked flatly, his face bleak.   
  
“No, this is where I tell you you make me happy.  And I want to kiss you now.”   
  
“Well, in that case, I guess it’s okay.”   
  
“Yeah?  It’s okay if I kiss you?”   
  
“If you must.”   
  
“I really must.  I think I may die if I don’t kiss you right now.  So ... I’m gonna kiss you.”   
  
“And I’ll kiss you right back.”   
  
And they did.   
  
&&&   
  
“Oh, Steve, this is lovely,” Pepper said as she came into the house for the first time.     
  
“I can’t take credit for anything - this is how I found it, I’m just trying to keep it clean.”   
  
“Well, that’s refreshing.  You’re looking well. Really well.  It looks like the Jersey Shore agrees with you.”   
  
“Yeah, it’s been really good.  Hey, thanks for keeping the press off me.  It’s been a huge help.”   
  
“Oh, please.  Bending the press to my will is one of my favorite pastimes, all the better when I can help out someone I care about.  Now you wouldn’t let us bring anything -“   
  
“Nope.  I’m having the party catered by my favorite local restaurant. Everything’s locally sourced, the food is fabulous.”   
  
“So you’ve been makin’ friends here,” Sam noted as he came up to shake Steve’s hand.  “Hey, man, sorry I haven’t been by to visit like I promised. I did get Ma’s rub recipe - we can try it out next time I visit, okay?  I won’t be such a stranger, I promise.”   
  
“‘S’okay.  I can see on TV that you’ve been busy.”   
  
“Yeah, we’re looking at recruiting some new blood into the team.”   
  
“Well, that’s, um, that’s good to hear.”   
  
“You’re thinking about not coming back, aren’t you.”   
  
Steve shrugged, but the message was clear.     
  
“Good for you, man. I need some normal friends.  You might be the closest thing I got.”   
  
Steve couldn’t help but laugh at that, and he clapped Sam lightly on the back.  “Damn, I’ve missed you. It’s good to see you, Sam. We gotta try to get together more often that this, y’know?”   
  
“Yeah.  Hey, maybe now you’re getting in the groove of vacation, maybe an afternoon up in Manhattan would be cool, y’know.  Come up, we’ll do lunch, hang around, and make fun of Stark. It’ll be a blast.”   
  
Wow.  An afternoon not spent at Howlies.  Missing his kids. Missing his ... Bucky.  “Uh -“   
  
“Oh.  You don’t wanna come to New York.  Now you’re gonna hafta spill, Rogers.  What’s got you so you don’t wanna leave New Jersey?”   
  
Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Becca let herself in.  “Hey, Steve, we’re gonna set up in the backyard, okay? Anything special you want us to do?”   
  
“You guys need any help?”   
  
“We got it covered.  Enjoy your guests for now, okay?”   
  
“Yeah, thanks Bex,” Steve replied warmly, all while Sam watched him critically.   
  
“Okay, yeah, I get it,” Sam said after a moment.   
  
“What?”   
  
“She’s cute.”   
  
“Oh, yeah, she is,” Steve agreed, but he wasn’t quite sure why that was noteworthy.   
  
“Good for you, man.  I’m glad to see you putting yourself out there.  You deserve to be happy. Hey, where’d Maria go?”   
  
&&&   
  
They hadn’t really talked about doing any kind of big reveal, no special way to introduce Bucky to the Avengers, to Steve’s friends.  Bucky had said he was comfortable with whatever Steve felt like doing. It was his coming out after all, and no one should dictate how such an important moment should go.   
  
And there had been the possibility that coming out might not have felt right, too.  And Bucky had said he was okay with that, even though he’d been clear he wasn’t interested in dating someone who was permanently closeted.  Steve understood that, and was supportive. He’d never really thought of himself as in the closet; he simply didn’t talk about his sexuality.   
  
He knew he liked spending time with Bucky.  Knew that he enjoyed his company, his kisses, his body. They’d been taking it slow, getting to know each other, spending time together, trading kisses. They’d just started to explore getting a little more physical with each other, and Steve had to admit that he was hopelessly addicted.   
  
But talking to Sam just then, realizing that the very idea of being apart from Bucky for even a day just felt so wrong ...    
  
He led his guests back through the house to the backyard, where Becca and Bucky had set up the food, plates and utensils, and a wonderful array of drinks from the bar.  He and Bucky had set up the tables and chairs the night before, along with fairy lights, lanterns, and the grill. The backyard looked festive and lively, and everyone oohed and ahhed over the decorations, and sniffed appreciatively at the food.     
  
Bucky was manning the grill, already getting some burgers and other choice options ready for people to customize.  He looked up and saw Steve, and the smile he gave him made Steve’s heart stutter. Bucky turned then to answer someone who was putting in their order.  Becca had already left, having helped with the set-up of Steve’s party before going on to another the siblings had booked elsewhere in Port Garrett. They’d dropped off pre-ordered trays and chafing dishes to several other homes in town, and now Bucky was committed to cooking for Steve’s party.   
  
Watching him in his element like that, seeing him be a part of his life beyond this vacation, this little bubble of normal, Steve couldn’t stand to be apart from him a moment longer.  He crossed the backyard in ground-eating strides, and found himself right there, next to Bucky at the grill. The food smelled amazing. Bucky looked even better. He slid his arm around Bucky’s waist and tugged him closer.  Bucky’s eyebrow shot up, like he was asking, “Really?”   
  
“Missed you,” Steve murmured, and kissed him on the lips.  Bucky’s lips curved in a smile as he leaned into the kiss, his mitted hand coming up to touch Steve’s cheek.   
  
Steve was suddenly aware that all the chatter around them had died away, and he could feel everyone’s attention directed to the pair of them.  He licked his lips and rested his forehead briefly against Bucky’s. “Ready?” he asked softly. Bucky nodded.    
  
Then he turned to face his friends, all of whom were ... smiling.  And he smiled, too, a smile that started in his heart and shone out through his pores.  “Folks, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Bucky Barnes. He and his sister Becca run Howlies down the boardwalk.  I’m kinda crazy about him. Bucky, this is everyone -“ and as his friends crowded around to meet Steve’s boyfriend, he introduced each one in turn.   
  
The cookout proved to be a great success, and Bucky was not only as good a cook on the grill as Becca was in the kitchen, he was incredibly well organized.  He would have made a good field commander, deploying Steve and some of their guests to fetch supplies, organize food orders, and generally keep the party going.  The fresh Jersey produce went over well, and Steve knew that if he did an Independence Day party, it would be even better since more would be in season. He’d been hearing about the wonders of Jersey corn and Jersey tomatoes for weeks already.   
  
The fire in the grill was banked now, and a couple of people had sticks with marshmallows jammed onto them toasting over the embers.  Steve had been introduced to the reality that was S’Mores earlier that evening, and he was a fan. Now, though, he and Bucky were sitting together on a big old Adirondack chair, Bucky half in his lap, enjoying a couple of Bucky’s carefully selected craft beers, and shooting the shit with Steve’s friends.  Friends that had accepted Bucky as Steve’s boyfriend seamlessly.   
  
“How far do you travel for catering gigs, Barnes?” Tony asked.   
  
Bucky shrugged.  “We’ve never really set a limit.  Why, whaddya have in mind?”   
  
“Thinking we may need some of this fine cuisine at our place in Manhattan.  Whaddya think, Pep? Next party catered by Howlies?”   
  
“Mmm.  Yes. Definitely.  We’re definitely going to have to check out your restaurant, too.  You and your sister - both of you - great cooks. It’s a good thing you’re not right there in New York - my waistline couldn’t take it.”   
  
Bucky’s mouth dropped open and Steve took the opportunity to nudge him with his shoulder.  “Um, thanks. Yeah, we can definitely work something out. We’d have to think through the logistics on food prep, though.  Getting stuck in tunnel traffic could be a factor.”   
  
“No it wouldn’t be.  I’d just pop over in the Quinjet and pick you up.  I could park on the beach, right? Or do I need a permit?  Pep, could you look into that -“   
  
“We have a perfectly serviceable parking lot.  We’d just have to time it right.”   
  
“Yeah, we’ll work it out.  Rogers, you did good here. You’re looking good, too.”   
  
“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?  And I feel good. Better than I have in a long time.”   
  
“That was the goal,” Sam replied, sauntering over with his beer bottle in his hand.  “Happiness is a good look on you, man.”   
  
Bucky turned toward him, favoring him with one of those brilliant, beautiful smiles.  “Yeah, it is,” he said softly, and Steve brought their entwined hands up to his lips and ghosted a kiss across Bucky’s knuckles.   
  
“Fucking Jersey, man.  Who knew?”   
  
&&&   
  
May gave way to June, and before long, July was upon them, and with it, Independence Day and Steve’s birthday.  The gang came out again to enjoy Becca and Bucky’s cooking, with fireworks over the water and a small but colorful carnival stretching the length of the boardwalk.  This time, Sam brought ribs rubbed down with his Ma’s recipe, and the offering was enthusiastically accepted with compliments to Ma Wilson.    
  
At the carnival, Tony won Pepper a huge fluffy rabbit, while Maria snagged a big panda bear for Sam.  Bucky announced that he was a marksman, and systematically nailed each of the shooting games until he’d amassed a fluffy menagerie he foisted on Steve with a kiss.  Then another, and another. Before long, they were practically making out, and stopped only when Clint started chanting, “Get a room!” and the others joined in as well.  They broke apart laughing, exchanged one more chaste kiss, and then Bucky waddled down the boardwalk carrying Steve’s gifts to the house so he could put them away.   
  
Pepper came up to him after the fireworks were done and said simply, “The owner agreed to your last offer.  I’ll have Legal draw up the necessary papers, and you should be able to close in the next couple of weeks.”   
  
He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks.  I appreciate your help with this. I know you don’t owe me anything -“   
  
“Nonsense.  You’re a friend.  Friends take care of friends.  And you’ll have to let me know how you want to handle all this with the press - a statement, a press conference, we’ll go with whatever you’re comfortable with.”   
  
“What do you mean?”   
  
“You’re stepping down, right?  Retiring?”   
  
“I ... I’m thinking about it, yeah.  Buck and I, we haven’t made any long-term plans -“   
  
“And that’s the other thing.  How you want to handle your relationship with Bucky.”   
  
“Isn’t that private?  Do I have to announce it to the world?”   
  
“Well, no, but I thought you might like to - you coming out would benefit a lot of kids who don’t have that representation.  But of course it’s something you need to decide together - once it’s out there that Bucky is your boyfriend, his life will change.”   
  
“Yeah.  And I’m not ready for that yet.  He’s always worried that I wouldn’t come out of the closet, but it’s not for me, it’s to protect him.  I think I just want to leave it for now. All of it. Captain America is on indefinite leave. No one needs to know I’m here.”   
  
“If Tony makes good on his promise to use a Quinjet to pick up takeout from Howlies, people will notice.”   
  
“They’ll notice that it’s a great restaurant with terrific food, not that the co-owner is dating an ex-soldier.”   
  
She smiled at him and patted his arm.  “Okay. We’ll do what we can to keep them off your back, and Bucky’s.  He’s good for you. And I think you’re good for him, too.”   
  
Steve looked over to where Bucky was laughing at something Sam was saying, and couldn’t help the smile that spread across his features.   
  
“Yeah,” he agreed.  “Yeah, I think you’re right.”   
  
&&&   
  
Steve signed the papers to make the house his later that month.  Over dinner that night, he asked Bucky if he’d like to move in with him.   
  
“Live together?  Really? I mean, you haven’t -“   
  
“I’m not going to make the big statement until I have to. Not because I’m ashamed or I want to hide anything.  Because I want to give us a chance to work, and neither of us needs the pressure of people shoving cameras in our faces or shouting rude questions at us all the time.  I want to live with you, to love you openly and without guilt, without shame. There’ll come a time when I’ll need to make a formal announcement about my future as Captain America.  And I’ll make a formal announcement about my sexuality. Because if I’d had someone to look up to when I was a kid and trying to figure out my own sexuality, it would have been easier, less scary.  I get that. But I’m selfish, and I want you to myself for a while. I want us to be private and just for us.”   
  
“Okay,” Bucky answered, tears glittering on his lashes, in his eyes.  “Okay.”   
  
“Yeah?  You make me happy, Buck.  Happier than I’d ever hoped possible.  I love you.”   
  
The sound coming out of Bucky’s throat was akin to a squawk, and then he got hold of himself and reached across the table to take Steve’s hands in his. “That’s good. Because I love you, too.”   
  
&&&   
  
The following summer, Steve Rogers came out to the world when he announced his engagement to James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, and his retirement as Captain America.  The wedding ceremony was conducted right on the beach in front of their house, with Grandpa Barnes and Dum Dum’s dog tag wedding bands, and then Tony Stark whisked them away on the Quinjet he parked in Howlies’ parking lot.  Steve and Bucky posted photos of their mystery destination on their respective Instagram and Twitter accounts, and by the time they got home, Bucky had gained almost as many followers as Steve had.    
  
Then Bucky broke Twitter by posting a selfie of Steve carrying him over the threshold of their house with the caption, “Mine.  Get your own. #heputaringonit #idiotsinlove #myguy #lovewins”   
  
END

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos, comments, and bookmarks are much, much appreciated.
> 
> Think about making a donation to The Trevor Project, too. They’re doing important work every day for our LGBTQ+ youth. The Trevor Project.


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